


The Promise

by Lolanae



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Depression, Drinking, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mental Breakdown, References to Suicide
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2013-06-25
Packaged: 2017-12-15 16:16:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/851524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lolanae/pseuds/Lolanae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire meets an enchanting man that he swears he knows, but he can't place where.  Enjolras has no idea who Grantaire is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Freedom and Mystery

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into the Les Mis fandom here. Thanks to Zimyria for the push last night. I don't have a beta, so all mistakes are mine. I hope to continue this, so let me know what you think. This idea has been in my head since I saw it on tumblr last week.

Grantaire cursed the crisp fall air. It had been summer when he entered this damn place. He zipped up with leather jacket and pulled his knit cap down over his ears. Tufts of dark brown, almost black curls stuck out from under the cap. He pulled a scarf out of his messenger bag and tied it around his neck.

“Of course my ride would forget about me,” he sighed. Thankfully he had enough cash on him to take the bus to his apartment. Looking around to get his bearings, Grantaire headed for the closest bus stop. _I could call a ride. They let me charge my cell phone, well more insisted upon it. I don’t feel like dealing with people right now, though_ , he thought to himself as he walked along the sidewalk.

While he sat at the bus stop, Grantaire pulled out his sketchpad. It had been his one constant the six weeks. Flipping through the pages showed a myriad of sketches, full drawings, doodles, writing, imagery, ect. Some might call it chaos, but it made sense in his head. He was the only one at the bus stop, so he pulled out his pencil and just started sketching. That’s when Grantaire saw something out of the corner of his eye. 

The blond curls of the gentleman walking towards the bus stop looked like sunshine on the gloomy day. Grantaire looked up from his sketching, and he couldn’t look away from the man’s structured face. Do I know him? I don’t think so, but he looks familiar to me, he thought. Grantaire watched him cross the street. He was wearing a well-tailored dark grey suit that fit him correctly in all the correct places. Grantaire could easily say he looked like one of the Greek statues he had to draw more times than he cared to remember in art school. As the man got closer, Grantaire noticed his bright blue eyes that stood out from his pale skin and mess of blond curls. His dark green button up shirt did nothing but make his eye pop more. Grantaire knew he was starring, but he couldn’t look away. The back of his head ached trying to place this guy. 

_Probably the damn meds drowning out any of my ability to think_ , he thought. Grantaire was glad to be free of them now. His thoughts were broken by a strong voice, “You know you’ve been watching me the entire time I’ve been crossing the street.”

Grantaire’s heart raced, and he didn’t know why. “Oh, I’m sorry. You remind me of someone or I think I’ve seen you somewhere before.”

“I just recently moved here, so I don’t think we’ve met before.” The man replied.

Before Grantaire could say anything else, not that he had the nerve to, the bus arrived. He gathered his things and walked to the back. The enchanting man sat near the front. Grantaire sketched him until he got off of the bus near downtown, one stop before Grantaire’s apartment.

________________________

Grantaire walked into his apartment and sank down into the sofa. He knew he’d have to go back out for groceries, but for now, he was relaxing by himself. The blond still hung in his memories, which was frustrating him. Grantaire pulled out his cell phone and texted his mother – _I’m home and alive. Guess you forgot you were supposed to give me a ride._ He set the phone on the coffee table and ignored any beeps it made. Starting to feel hot, he pulled off the knit cap and his curls went in every direction, and he slipped out of his leather jacket. Grantaire walked around his apartment, fidgeting with the cuffs of his long sleeve t-shirt. Everything was familiar to him, but it was different than the cold generic walls he had grown used to lately. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. His hair was long enough to hang in his eyes some, not that he cared. Dark circles etched themselves under his bluish green eyes. Grantaire splashed some cold water on his face before he left to go back to the living room.

He looked through his pile of art supplies and found a blank canvas. Grantaire got a brush and applied a base layer of gesso. While that was drying he searched the kitchen for some wine and succeeded. Grantaire flipped to the sketch of the blond from earlier. “I know you.” He said out loud. “But how?” Grantaire grabbed a sketching pencil and began to sketch the blond from memory. He didn’t feel like water colors on his first day back at it, so he grabbed his acrylics. It felt nice to have his hands messy with paint again, and Grantaire lost himself in that feeling and the wine for a few hours.  
_________________________

It was almost five when Grantaire’s stomach took over his ability to concentrate on the painting. Grantaire was pleased with it for his first one since being home. He tossed his brushes into the sink to wash later and barely washed the paint off of his hands. In reality, he really didn’t care if his hands were stained with paint. Grantaire put on his jacket and decided to walk down to the pub near his apartment. It was small and had tables in the back where he could sit and people watch. One the way out of the door, he tossed his sketch book back in his bag with some sketching pencils.

__________________________

Grantaire was happily seated in his favorite corner table in the back. It gave him the best view of the pub. He could people watch here all night and had done just that many times. The whiskey he was sipping tasted wonderful, even if it didn’t really match the burger and fries he had been munching on. Grantaire was finishing the last sip of his current glass when the blond walked in. He choked at the sight of him. Then cursed just how much whiskey burns if it tries to go out your nose.

The blond still wore his suit, but he had the jacket unbuttoned now, his tie loosened, and the top button of his shirt undone. Grantaire felt himself blush for some reason. “Where the fuck do I know you from?” He muttered under his breath. The blond was alone still, and he sat at the bar. Grantaire could see that his mess of blond curls stopped just at his chin. The sudden urge to run his fingers through them shocked Grantaire. “Maybe I am crazy,” he scolded himself, as he got up to walk over to the bar. 

He stood next to the blond at the bar. Grantaire couldn’t shake the urge to look over at him. Before he could speak, the blond spoke first, “Bus stop guy, right?” Grantaire nodded, his voice suddenly failing him. “You live near here?”

“Yes. About a block away.” _Thank you for returning voice_ , he thought.

“Me, too. Close to work.” Oh man, his smile was captivating. Grantaire felt himself wanting to touch him.

The euphoric feeling Grantaire had crashed in his gut the moment the blond held out his hand, and Grantaire grabbed it in a return shake. “My name is Enjolras. Your’s?”

Grantaire felt like he was being shocked; and yet, he felt blissful all in the same moment. “Grantaire, but people sometimes call me R.” The bar tender returned with Grantaire’s drink. 

“Nice to meet you, Grantaire.”

“Same. I still swear I know you from somewhere before the bus stop.” Grantaire stuttered.

“Doubt it.”

“Well, I need to go.” Grantaire lied. He’d stay there all night, but he was starting to panic. Grantaire went back to his table and downed his glass of whiskey in one gulp. The burn of it going down dulled his brain enough to pack up his things and get home. 

_________________

Grantaire slammed the door to his apartment. He quickly shed his jacket as it felt like he was suffocating. His hand still tingled where Enjolras had shook it. He had a firm, strong grip. Grantaire leaned back against the wall of his living room. His painting for earlier stared at him. “Enjolras.” Grantaire’s heart was racing. He pulled his knees to his chest and closed his eyes. All he could hear was the sound of riffles firing and he could feel Enjolras holding his hand.

“What is happening to me?” He cried.


	2. Believe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grantaire keeps running into Enjolras.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is much larger. I hope you all enjoy this. **Trigger warning - Suicide attempt is mentioned in this chapter** Let me know what you think. Thanks!

_You do not believe in everything._ Enjolras’ voice in Grantaire’s head woke up him with a jolt. Cold sweat covered his skin. He was in bed. Grantaire looked around the room. _Home. My room. Safe. I think._ Pushing a button on his cell showed him that it was noon on Saturday. _How long have I been asleep?_ Enjolras was still on his mind, and it was maddening that he couldn’t figure out where he knew him. Grantaire picked up his laptop off of the floor and sat it in his lap. He began searching for some leads on freelance art work. Anything to think about besides those blond curls and blue eyes and strength. Grantaire sent off a few emails to ads he found and then shut his laptop off before he gave into the want to google Enjolras. “You need to get out of bed”, he told himself. All he wanted to do was to go back to sleep and not dream about Enjolras. To black out the world completely. “You need new sketchbooks and food,” he encouraged himself. With a heavy sigh, Grantaire got out of bed and went to shower.  
__________________  
By midafternoon, Grantaire had finished his errands, and he felt rather accomplished. He even talked to his mother, who called to tell him she’d put some money in his bank account until he could get back to work. Grantaire picked up one of his new sketchbooks, his travel paint set, and tossed them in his bag. He put a set of leather cuffs on – one on each wrist. Grantaire liked the gentle pressure the pressed into his skin. It was something to focus on if he got anxious. He slung his messenger bag across his body and pulled his knit cap on his head to control his wild hair somewhat.

The sun was out today, which cut some of the crispness in the air. It was a really pretty afternoon, and Grantaire tried his best to enjoy his walk. The park was a few blocks from his apartment, and he knew getting out of the apartment was important. He could people watch in the park. Watching the kids happily play was always his favorite thing to do. Their innocence to the world and its darkness. He missed those days of his own life. If he wanted to be honest about it, something had always felt missing from his life. It’s part of the reason for his recent issues, as he liked to sum up the entire situation in one word.

With it being a Saturday, the park was full, but there was something else going on. A gathering of some type. Being the always curious type, Grantaire walked closer, and that’s when he saw him. _Enjolras._ Grantaire slowly made his way through the crowd. It felt like he was being pulled towards Enjolras. The gathering was to protest the building of a new stadium. The land currently housed low incoming housing, and those people would be on the streets if the city went through with their plans. Enjolras was a very captivating speaker. His words were pointed and precise, and they pulled you in with a solid hook. He easily commanded the hodge podge of a crowd that had gathered. Just like yesterday, he was dressed like a model – red button up shirt, dark grey slacks, and his curls framing his face. Grantaire couldn’t look away. He closed his eyes for a moment to try to focus on something else. All he could see was Enjolras in a red jacket. Grantaire looked back up at Enjolras, who was still just in a red shirt not a jacket. _My brain is just on overdrive. That’s it._

Before Grantaire could completely shut up his brain, Enjolras spotted him. The bright blue eyes locked onto Grantaire for a moment, and in that brief span of time, Enjolras’ perfect speech faltered slightly, taking them both by surprise.  
__________________  
 _The tangled dark brown curls. The aquamarine eyes. The intense stare. Why do you phase me so much?_ Enjolras quickly refocused on his speech. He had never been more thankful for every single debate class he took in college. There were plenty of other faces to look at, focus on, direct his words to; yet, he kept glancing over at Grantaire. His unkempt outfit of ragged blue jeans, long green sleeve shirt with a plaid button up shirt over that, a maroon knit cap holding in the madness of his curls, and leather cuffs on his wrists. Grantaire was the polar opposite of Enjolras, and he had been on his mind since the pub last night.

He rarely drank, but he had a drink after Grantaire rushed out of the bar. Touching his hand felt right to Enjolras, and up to that point, he thought Grantaire was insane with his ‘I swear I know you’ stuff. All last night he kept waking up after seeing Grantaire walking towards him with a stare of compassion, love, determination. _The hand holding. Tight. Warm. Completing._ Enjolras didn’t sleep much to begin with, but last night he barely slept at all. He was only awake enough for this rally thanks to four cups of strong coffee.

Cheering and applause followed the closing of Enjolras’ speech. Everyone, expect for Grantaire, who just looked at him with an expression that Enjolras couldn’t place. As if he was trying to remember every detail of the moment or attempting to read Enjolras like a book or both. The fact that Grantaire seemed to have no reaction to the speech Enjolras had spent weeks on bothered him, and the simple fact that it did, bothered him even more.

The crowd started filing over to the tables to sign the petition to stop the stadium; while Grantaire walked the other direction. Frustrated, Enjolras went up to him and grabbed his arm. _Why did I do that_ , he thought? “Hey, aren’t you going to sign the petition?”

“What good would it do?” Grantaire replied, looking directly up at Enjolras.

“It would help show that people support not forcing hard working families out of their homes.” Enjolras argued.

“But the stadium construction would create jobs, then the stadium itself would bring in revenue.” Grantaire said calmly. “People would also be compensated for their homes, correct?”

“If they own them, they would, but many rent.” _Why am I loving and hating this at the same time_ , Enjolras thought?

“You have maybe what, one hundred people here, if that.” Grantaire pointed to the group on the other side of the meeting area. “That can’t be enough to convince the city to change its mind.”

“It doesn’t mean it’s a lost cause. I have to at least try.”

“You aren’t even one of the people that would be homeless. You live downtown.” Grantaire kept finding points of contention to bring up.

“Still doesn’t mean I can’t help someone who is in trouble. I believe I have to try.” Enjolras said. “Don’t you believe in anything?”

“I believe in you.” Grantaire said. The look on his face was one of shock at his own words. He jerked his arm away from Enjolras finally and quickly walked away. His cheeks were flushed pink. 

Enjolras stood there confused and caught off guard, “You don’t even know me,” he whispered in the direction of Grantaire’s retreat.  
__________________

_Why did I say that? Where did that come from? I don’t know him. I do believe he is passionate about his cause, and it’s amazing to watch him in action. But why did I say I believe in him? It felt natural to say it. Like I’ve said it a million times before. Like it was a given fact about him._ Grantaire’s mind raced through the thoughts as he walked towards the pub a block from the park. His body couldn’t let go of the anxiety, and his arm desperately held on to the feeling of Enjolras’ hand on his arm. Those blue eyes constantly finding him while he spoke. The slight falter in his perfect cadence when he noticed Grantaire in the crowd. _What is going on?_

He pulled his knit cap off and shoved it in his bag. His curls blew around in the fall wind, tickling his face. If Grantaire hadn’t been desperate to put distance between him and Enjolras, it would have taken him twice as long to get to the pub. Thanks to it still being early, his favorite table was open in the corner. Grantaire ordered a bottle of wine and started drinking. He wanted to numb the confusion, pain, frustration, and the damn attraction to Enjolras.  
__________________

Enjolras walked into the pub around eight that night. He noticed Grantaire immediately. His curls free of the cap that bound them earlier, and them slightly hanging in Grantaire’s face while he drank. Enjolras ordered a bottled water from the bar and walked over to Grantaire’s table.

“If you weren’t here first, I’d say you were stalking me,” Enjolras said as he sat down.

Grantaire looked up at him with glassy, panicked eyes. “My table. And not a funny joke.” His speech was slurred some. Not the soft, gentleness from before.

“About earlier.” Enjolras started, but Grantaire interrupted.

“What about it?” 

“How can you believe in me if you don’t know me?” 

Grantaire looked up at him while taking a sip of something from a bottle. His blue eyes were cold, “I didn’t mean it.” 

Hearing that affected Enjolras more than it should, but he kept his emotions in check. “Have you been here drinking since you left the park?”

“Maybe, why do you care?”

“I don’t.” Enjolras lied, and he hoped Grantaire didn’t spot it.

Grantaire laid his head on the table. The mop of brown curls fell in all directions. Enjolras gripped the leg of his pants to keep from reaching out for them. “Why are you here, Enjolras?” Hearing Grantaire say his name sounded – _familiar._

“I wish I knew,” Enjolras said under his breath.

Grantaire’s head snapped up. He had this fierce but playful look in his eyes. The softer features of his face went hard, and he cracked a funny smile. “Look at that. The man with all the words is now speechless. Let’s alert the press.”

“Can you ever be serious?” Enjolras was getting tired of the constant attempts to argue.

“I’m wild.” Grantaire stood up and grabbed his bag. He stumbled a bit as he tried to get his footing.

Enjolras stood up to help. “You are too drunk. Let me help you get home.” He put his arm around Grantaire.

He jerked away from Enjolras’ grasp, “I’ll be fine. Go help someone else.” He was yelling by the end of that as he walked out of the bar.

Enjolras saw that Grantaire had left his sketchbook. He grabbed it, made sure Grantaire’s tab was covered, and then left out of the pub to find Grantaire.  
___________________

Grantaire had not been this drunk in, well, seven weeks. _Why does he get to me so badly?_ Turning down the alley to take the shortcut to his apartment, Grantaire tripped. Before he could get his bearings, someone was tugging on his bag. “Hey, stop!” He shouted.

“Just give me the bag, and you won’t get hurt!” The attacker shouted.

_Can this day get any worse?_ Grantaire pulled back on his bag, and the attacker countered by slicing the top of his hand with a knife. Grantaire screamed as the metal sliced through skin and nerves. He let go of his bag and sank to the ground. 

The next thing he heard was the knife hitting the ground. He looked up to see his attacked knocked out, and Enjolras coming towards him. Grantaire felt himself relax and tense all in the same breath. “Are you okay, Grantaire?” Enjolras was kneeling down in front of him. 

“I don’t need help,” Grantaire’s voice cracked. _Fuck, I’m crying._

Enjolras pulled off his red shirt and wrapped it around Grantaire’s bleeding hand. He was wearing a tight white t-shirt underneath. “Yes, you do.” He held Grantaire’s head up. The feel of Enjolras’ hand on his face was pure comfort to Grantaire.

“Okay.” Grantaire whispered. Enjolras helped him up and wrapped his arm tightly around his waist to support him. 

“Where do you live, R?” Enjolras asked. Grantaire answered out of reflex, because his brain was too focused on hearing Enjolras use his nickname. It had been ages since he had a friend use it. For as much as he used to hate it, he had missed it.  
___________________

Enjolras sat Grantaire on his sofa. “Do you have first aid supplies?”

“Bathroom.” Grantaire looked up to see the painting he did of Enjolras still looking back at him. _Shit. I’m too drunk to hide it quickly. Maybe he won’t pay enough attention._

Grantaire’s fear was realized when Enjolras glanced back as he sat down on the coffee table. “You painted me, huh?”

He felt his cheeks flush, “Yes.” He looked down at Enjolras working on his hand. “I’m sorry about your shirt.”

“Don’t be.” Enjolras began to unwrap Grantaire’s hand. “Hopefully you won’t need stitches. I’m going to have to take the cuff off, though.” 

Grantaire snatched his hand back. “No.” He stuttered. _I don’t want you to see._

Enjolras held his hand, “I’m trying to help. Let me.” Grantaire unsnapped the cuff and let it fall into his lap. He looked off in the distance as Enjolras turned his hand over. Enjolras let out a small gasp as he saw the scar. He held pressure on the wound on the top of Grantaire’s hand as he gently rubbed his thumb over the scar. Grantaire felt himself shaking and tears running down his cheeks. “Why?”

“Do you actually care?” He looked back down at Enjolras. The stoic mask he wore was gone. Shock and care painted his blue eyes.

“Yes.” He turned his hand back around and began to clean it up. The bleeding had slowed down.

“I got tired of feeling alone in the world. Like I was out of sync. I was just floating through life. One night I was just done. I always felt like something was missing. I could never figure it out. Everyone thought I was insane when I talked about feeling like I was in the wrong life. Hell, I even thought I was insane. Still do sometimes. People pushed me to do something other than art. Do a “real” skill. A “real” job. I just wanted to be happy. Art shut my mind off. I could focus on a piece and create something beautiful out of the chaos in my head. One night the pressure from my family to be perfect just became too much. I haven’t had friends in years. I had no one.”

Enjolras was wrapping gauze tightly around Grantaire’s hand. “When did this happen?”

“Seven weeks ago.” Grantaire looked back down at Enjolras. “You were the first person I saw when I got out of the hospital. My ride even forgot about me. Maybe that was fate.”

“I don’t believe in fate.” 

“Why is that?” Grantaire ran his fingers over the bandages.

“Hard to control.”

“You would say that.” Grantaire chuckled softly. “Thank you for helping.”

“Don’t mention it.” Enjolras opened his mouth, but closed it back.

“Say whatever it is. I don’t know what I’ll remember about tonight with as drunk as I am.” This was partially true, but Grantaire’s curiosity of having Enjolras this close to him was winning over any reservations in his head.

“Why did you get so drunk today? What was the point?”

“To forget you.” Grantaire closed his eyes. “Since yesterday I have been feeling more out of sync, but I keep feeling pulled to you. I can’t explain it, and it’s infuriating. I’m terrified of you, and yet I want you to stay. I want to get to know you. When I said what I did earlier, that’s not what I wanted to say. It’s just what came out, and I swear, we’ve had the same exact conversation earlier.” Grantaire stood up. “Just forget it, you’ll think I’m crazy like it seems you have since I met you.” 

He started to walk off, but Enjolras stood up and grabbed his arm like earlier. Grantaire turned around, and became aware just how close the two of them were to each other. Enjolras put his hand on Grantaire’s cheek, “I don’t think you are crazy, but I think we should talk when you are sober.” Those words made Grantaire smile. 

“Really?” He felt more tears roll down his cheeks. Enjolras’ thumb tenderly wiped them away. Grantaire closed his eyes and pressed his cheek into Enjolras’ palm.

“Yes. Give me your phone.” Grantaire pulled it out of his pocket, and Enjolras programed in his number. “You might drive me insane, R, but you aren’t the only one that has felt out of sync.” 

“I’m not dreaming, am I?”

“No, you aren’t.” Enjolras wrapped his arm around Grantaire’s waist. “Let’s get you in bed so you can get some sleep.”   
____________________

Grantaire laid in bed looking at the bandage on his hand. It should terrify him. It should remind him of the night he tried to kill himself. It should make him panic. It doesn’t, though. All he keeps thinking about is how the rough exterior, unfaltering Enjolras had a tender side. One that knew how to take care of him. His hand on his cheek wiping his tears. Someone finally saying they didn’t think he was crazy. _I hope he wasn’t lying._

Grantaire picked up his phone and texted Enjolras. _**~Thank you for tonight. It means more than you know.~**_

A few moments later his phone beeped at him. _**~Sleep, R. We’ll talk tomorrow. Don’t do anything stupid tonight. Just sleep for me, please? I’ll leave my phone on tonight, understand?~**_

_**~Going to sleep now. ~** _

_**~Text or call me when you wake up. You aren’t alone anymore, R.~** _

Grantaire rolled over and went to sleep. “I’m not crazy.” He smiled to himself as he closed his eyes.


	3. Babel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The closer they get, the clearer the mystery of their past becomes, until they finally have a realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this one. Lots of Enjolras POV, who is a little more difficult for me. The best way I can describe these two in this chapter...magnets trying to stay apart and then slipping and clashing together! Thanks for reading! (Chapter title inspired by the Mumford and Sons song.)

_Soliders. French. The smell of gun powder. The cries. Bodies. Mes Amis. Enjolras. Bloody. Red flag. Guns pointed at him. “…Permets-tu?” Enjolras’ smile. Enjolras’ hand grabbing mine. Gun fire. Blackness._ Grantaire woke up covered in a cold sweat. Of all the nightmares he had been plagued with, that was the first one that had been that clear. _That real._ He grabbed the sketchbook from his bedside table and began to draw before he forgot. Grantaire zoned out drawing and didn’t hear his cell phone beep at him multiple times while he drew.  
______________________  
When Enjolras hadn’t heard from Grantaire over twelve hours later, he texted him. Nothing. Another, and nothing. Four more times over the next two hours. Nothing. Enjolras paced around his apartment. His brain fought over the feelings he was having, what was reality, and just how drawn he was to Grantaire. “I shouldn’t have left him alone last night,” he scolded himself. Enjolras grabbed his keys and headed out to Grantaire’s apartment.  
______________________  
The knock on the door sent panic down Grantaire’s spine. “Shit,” as he grabbed his cell phone and saw the missed text from Enjolras. Grantaire looked down and saw that he was still in the same clothes as yesterday. He remembered going to bed almost feeling happy. That high was now gone and replaced with the fear of what Enjolras must think – will think – when he sees him like this. Grantaire closed his eyes for a moment and desperately tried to calm his heartbeat. Even though he wanted Enjolras here, surprises never went well in his brain. Ever.

When Grantaire had managed to muster enough courage to go to the door, he heard Enjolras, “Please be okay,” he was whispering. 

“I am,” Grantaire faked a smile as he opened the door.

“Why didn’t you text me back?” Enjolras said, looking frustrated.

Grantaire gulped. “I’m sorry. I got caught up drawing.” He looked at the floor as Enjolras walked past him.

“I was worried about you.” Enjolras looked exasperated. 

“I’m sorry.” Grantaire still hadn’t moved.

“Stop apologizing.” Enjolras lightly touched Grantaire’s shoulder, making him jump. “What did you draw that was so important?”

“Nothing.” Grantaire’s body tensed, and he felt jittery. Enjolras was so close. _Why am I so drawn to you?_

“I don’t believe that.” Enjolras turned Grantaire’s head to face him. His hands tickled the stubble that painted Grantaire’s neck and cheeks. Grantaire clenched his fists shut to keep from reach out to touch Enjolras back. “Look at me, please.”

Enjolras’ chiseled features were softened, and his eyes had this warmness to them. His blond curls landed at the collar of his button up shirt. Grantaire wondered if he wore anything but dress shirts. He stood as still as he could keep his now shaking body. Grantaire wanted to yell. He wanted to scream. He wanted to hug Enjolras. He wanted to talk to him. But he can’t. His frozen in between what he wanted and what he fears. Enjolras moved the hand on Grantaire’s cheek to remove a dark curl from in front of his eyes. Grantaire closed his eyes. “Talk to me, please.” Enjolras’ whispered, and it sounded almost like he was begging. 

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I’m afraid you’ll find out how broken I am.” Grantaire still had his eyes closed.

“Tu n'es pas seul” _You aren’t alone._

“Je sais.” _I know._

Enjolras slipped his fingers into Grantaire’s curly hair. Grantaire leaned his head against Enjolras’ palm. “Talk to me please. What are you thinking about?”

“How much you being this close to me feels right. How much that scares me. How I feel like walls are crumbling in my head, releasing a flood that I don’t know if I can keep afloat in.” Grantaire felt the tears roll out of his still closed eyes. “How bad I want you to hug me tightly. Squeeze me as hard as you can to make it feel like something is holding me up and keeping me here. Rub my back and tell me it will be okay, even though you don’t know what’s happening either. Tell me we’ll figure this out. Treat me like a human being instead of a mental patient. See that there is more to me than the drinking.” Grantaire was sobbing, but he couldn’t stop. Enjolras kept his hand in his hair. “To tell me I’m not insane. That the vivid dreams I’m having mean something. To help me figure out what is going on, and why I feel like I’ve spent a lifetime with you even though I just saw you two days ago. To have someone that will stand next to me on my darkest days when everyone else abandons me. To just.”  
Enjolras interrupted Grantaire by doing just what he asked. He grabbed him and squeezed him tightly. The pressure against Grantaire’s sides hurt, but it was something to focus on. He buried his face into Enjolras’ neck as he felt a hand rub his back gently. Grantaire felt himself start to relax slowly. Enjolras didn’t move or stop rubbing his back, and they stood like that until Grantaire completely relaxed. “Better?” Enjolras whispered in his ear.

Grantaire looked up. “Yes.” Enjolras still had his arms wrapped around his waist. Grantaire finally made his arms move and returned the embrace, which cause a smile to appear on Enjolras’ face. “What is happening?”

“I wish I knew, Grantaire.” Enjolras whispered, his breath tickled Grantaire’s face. “I feel like I’ve found something I’ve been looking for my entire life.” Grantaire loved how Enjolras always sounded so sure of himself. He envied that.

“Me, too.” Grantaire replied. “And I’m terrified to lose you.” _I didn’t mean to say that_ , he thought as he felt himself blush.

“I was scared you had done something stupid last night after I left.” Enjolras admitted as his voice briefly cracked.

“Don’t cry. That’s my job.” Grantaire chuckled behind a sniffle.

Enjolras smiled and gently leaned in to kiss Grantaire, whose body tensed briefly as he fell back against the door. The kiss was tender, gentle, loving. Grantaire returned the kiss, realizing just how bad he had wanted this. He reached his hands up and played with Enjolras’ golden curls. When they broke apart from the kiss, Grantaire pushed past him. “I’ll be right back.” He walked into his bedroom and locked the door. Grantaire slid down against the door, running his fingers over his lips.   
______________________

Enjolras looked in the direction Grantaire walked off in, sighing when the door slammed. His heart was racing. This was not what he planned for today – at all. He feared he scared Grantaire by pushing too far, but he felt him return the kiss. The world was upside down lately, and his lack of sleep was not helping him to process any of it. He ran his hands through his hair, letting out a groan of frustration. 

Grantaire’s apartment in the daylight was a mess compared to his more organized one. Art supplies took up most of the living room. A small tv was on a stand in the corner, and books were stacked up randomly. There was a pile of spiral and leather bound sketchbooks at the end of the couch. The one from last night was still on the coffee table. Enjolras sat down on the sofa and picked it up to flip through. The pages were covered with detailed sketches, random writing, and thoughts from Grantaire’s mind. Enjolras was speechless at the juxtaposition of the pain and beauty on the pages. 

“Put it down.” Grantaire’s voice startled him. “You have no right to look in that. Put it down, Enjolras.”

“I’m sorry, R.” He knew his face and ears were flushing. “I’m sorry.” Grantaire came and grabbed the sketchbook from him and nodded. Enjolras felt horrible looking at the panic back on Grantaire’s face. He had another sketchbook in his hands. 

“Read this,” pointing at a note written on a piece of paper that looked to be ripped from the sketchbook, “And then look through this one.” He hugged the sketchbook he had rescued from Enjolras. “I’m not used to people looking through my sketchbooks. Stuff for freelancing and my classes in college – sure. Not these sketchbooks. Not this one,” patting the one safely in his arms. “Please respect and understand that.”

Enjolras nodded. “I should have thought it through.” He sat the book Grantaire handed him on the coffee table and walked over to him. “Can I tell you something though?”

Grantaire went as white as a sheet for a moment. Enjolras cupped his face in his hands. “It was beautiful. And if that’s what your mind is like, it’s beautiful. Completely beautiful. I didn’t see much, but what I did was amazing.” 

The dark haired man bit his own lips, “Insanity isn’t beautiful. I’m not beautiful. It’s hard to believe anyone finds the shit in that book beautiful.” The words were sharp and pointed – like a wounded animal striking out at the one person that wanted to hold it.

“I know you aren’t going to believe me, but I have this feeling that I won’t give up on you, Grantaire.” Enjolras felt the other man’s cheeks warm when he said that. “I hope I didn’t overstep earlier by kissing you. It’s not what I had planned when I came here. I just, you were just,” and this time, Grantaire interrupted him. Keeping one hand on the sketch pad, Grantaire pulled Enjolras to him with the other, fingers tangling in his blond curls.

Enjolras had never kissed someone until ten minutes before hand, and now this. His heart felt like it was coming out of his chest. Grantaire’s lips were soft against his, and every moment of both kisses felt right. Enjolras wrapped his arms around Grantaire again and hugged him. “I liked that,” he whispered in his ear when Grantaire broke from the kiss. 

Grantaire buried his head into Enjolras’ chest. “Me, too. I’m going to go take a shower and change.” He pointed at the sketch page on the coffee table, “Please read that while I’m gone, and don’t disappear.”

“Okay, and I won’t.” Enjolras sat back down. When he heard the bathroom door shut, he put his fingers to his lips. They still tingled and tasted faintly of the whiskey that was still on Grantaire’s breath from the night before. He opened the letter. Grantaire’s writing was easy to read, even though he could tell it was quickly written.

_Enjolras -_

_I’m writing this, because I know if I try to say it, I’ll stumble over my words and forget half of what I want to say. Ever since I’ve met you, the dreams are becoming clearer. You are the only thing that’s crystal clear, now. This sketchbook contains all the sketches I’ve made from the dreams. I was even having them before. They scared me then, and still do some now, but they feel right. I don’t know if I’m making sense. Just look. I hope I don’t scare you away._

_~R_

He opened the sketchbook and the first page was an old cobble stone street, with buildings lining either side going two to three stories high. At the middle of the image, a café with the name – Musain. He turned the page. A barricade with figures. Young men. Flags. French Flags. Enjolras felt his hand shake as he kept turning the pages. A smaller figure, maybe a little boy? Canons. Forms in the shape of faceless dead bodies on the ground. Enjolras closed his eyes, and he felt a tear roll down his cheek. He never cried. _Why am I crying?_

Enjolras kept flipping through the pages, until his heart sank and a lump formed in his throat. He ran his hand over the image. Tears flowed freely now. “…Permets-tu?” His hands couldn’t stop shaking. Enjolras got up and walked around the living room looking at the picture. He and Grantaire, holding hands, and Enjolras held a red flag in his other. Three bodies in front of them – dead. 

He looked up to see Grantaire looking at him from the end of the hallway. “There is something missing from this picture, R.” His voice cracked.

Grantaire walked towards him. Enjolras could see the gentle, yet troubled look in his blue eyes. “What?” 

“A firing squad that you sacrificed yourself to for me…” He tried to stop crying but nothing was working. “Why? You could have left. I sent you away. Do you remember?”

Grantaire took the sketchbook and put it tossed it back to the sofa. “Yes.”

“Why, Grantaire?” 

“I couldn’t let you die alone,” Grantaire said, stepping closer. Enjolras closed his eyes trying to focus. “I don’t know all the answers. I wish I did, but for now it seems like we got a second chance.” 

“Why us?” He wrapped his arms around Grantaire. “What about the others?”

“I don’t know. They are becoming clearer in my dreams. I would like to hope they are out there somewhere.” Enjolras could feel Grantaire’s warm breath on his neck and the coolness of his wet curls. “I’m glad I found you at that bus stop.”

“You know, there were easier ways to get me to believe in fate, R.” Enjolras chuckled. “You died for me.”

“You let me,” Enjolras could tell Grantaire was grinning slightly.

“Promise me, no more dying. I don’t want to waste this second chance.”

“Promise.” Grantaire pressed a soft kiss into Enjolras’ neck. 

“You proved me wrong, Grantaire.” Enjolras whispered.

“How so?”

“You know how.” Enjolras didn’t want to let him go. 

“What do we do now?” Grantaire was rubbing his back.

“Not let go of you. And you want to know something else, R?” He moved so Grantaire would look up at him.

“What?”

“I know in my heart this is something I wanted to say for a while, but I never did so I’m taking the chance while I have it.” He paused, “I believe in you.” The smile Grantaire gave him was priceless. “There is one more thing.” He kissed Grantaire softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Apollo.” Grantaire grinned.

Enjolras let out a soft groan, “Still not sure about that nickname.” They both chuckled. “Do you want to try to find the others?”

“Yes.” Grantaire answered. “Can you do one thing for me?”

“Anything.”

“Be patient with me. I still have demons to deal with.”

“Tu n'es pas seul” Enjolras repeated from earlier. “No matter what we have to go through.” 

“Thank you,” Grantaire whispered as he gently kissed Enjolras.


End file.
